


Extra Cinnamon

by Beleriandings



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Shopping, bonding via food, team cleric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 04:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17635955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Jester takes Caduceus to the market in Nicodranas.





	Extra Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from @criticalprompts on tumblr, [here](https://criticalprompts.tumblr.com/post/181743782939/character-caduceus-image-by-daria-yakovleva-on). Written after episode 46.

“Oh, this is nice” said Caduceus, his eyes closed as he inhaled deep. He opened his eyes, looking down at the conical piles of brightly coloured spices neatly compacted in their wicker baskets in front of the nearest market stall. He smiled placatingly up at the stallholder, who was giving him a sharp eye. “This is anise, right? It looks different from the kind I know, but I’m sure it’s lovely. And that one looks like…mmm, paprika. Cinnamon and ginger. Mustardseed. Oh, and there’s some turmeric there. That’s lovely, really nice.”

“I know, right?” said Jester, tugging excitedly on his arm, bouncing up and down with excitement. “Isn’t this whole market the best place we’ve been in Nicodranas? Or, you know, the best place _ever?_ ”

“It is, it is.” He looked rather in awe, as he squinted down at a pile of crystalline salt. “Hmm. It’s pink. Don’t have that at home. I like that.” He looked up at Jester. “Did you get to come here all your life, then?”

“…Um, not exactly… I mostly stayed in my room, back at my momma’s house…. but the cooks and servants would always go to the market, and they’d bring me back all sorts of cakes and pastries and candies!” She tugged his arm over to another stall, filled with bright-wrapped sweets and candied citrus peel, sugared almonds, honeyed dates, and tiny coloured marzipan fruits and vegetables smaller than her thumb. Jester remembered those from her childhood, and she giggled, as she watched Caduceus’ eyes go wide with delight at the sight of a tiny golden box of perfectly replicated marzipan mushrooms. “Ahaha, those are so good. They don’t taste like real mushrooms, so don’t be disappointed, but you _have_ to try them…”

“…Yeah. Yeah I think I want to. I think there’s a lot of things I want to try, actually.”

She found herself smiling along with him, so wide her face hurt, as for the next hour they wandered through the bazaar, looking at things, tasting samples, breathing in the warm scent of spices. Someone was playing the hurdy-gurdy, somewhere not far off; she remembered the sound from the street buskers outside her window when she was a child, and she hummed the words of the song to herself, under her breath. 

As the day drew on to a humid evening fragranced with pipe smoke and incense and coffee from the cafes that lined the side of the road, her coin purse was starting to grow lighter and their baskets of purchases heavier. But, she thought, as Caduceus very correctly pointed out, there was no better way to spend it that either of them could think of. For the first time in a long time, the cold and the dark felt far away, and all that there was was the smell of cooking curling through the air, the shouting of the merchants and the customers haggling down prices, the laughter of children chasing each other through the narrow alleys.

* * *

 

It was a cold night on the road, a few weeks later. Back in the Empire, the Mighty Nein were heading north to the regions still gripped by the cold of late winter, refusing to yield to spring without a few more hard frosts, killing off the early flowers by the side of the road before they could blossom.

The seven of them were huddled in the ramshackle remains of what had one been a farmhouse, the hole in the roof patched with the top of Caleb’s glimmering amber-coloured dome of magic, under which all of them were huddled around the largest campfire they dared to light for fear of the smoke being seen; they had had a little trouble at the border, and they had all agreed it would be better not to attract undue attention. 

Despite the fire though, it was still _cold_ , the kind that she hadn’t known until she came north, the kind that went bone-deep. Before, Jester didn’t often get cold, and she still didn’t; at least not as often as any of the others. But even Infernal blood could only do so much to keep her warm. She pulled her cloak close around her, shuffling a little close to the fire. She felt a sudden acute longing for home; she didn’t often feel it so strongly now, not with her friends all around her, but now she was freezing, exhausted, and bruised from the fight they had earlier, and suddenly it gripped her like a claw to the heart.

Just then, there came a gentle rumble of a voice behind her.

“Jester. Here, drink this. You look like you could use it.”

She turned, seeing Caduceus, draped in a few of the lumpy hand-knitted scarves he liked to make while they were on the road, holding out a steaming cup of… something. “Ooh!” she said, brightening immediately. “What kind of tea did you make?”

“Smell it.”

She took the cup - the earthenware blessedly warm against her chilled fingers,  taking the heat of the liquid, steam curling up into the firelit darkness. She smelled it, and her eyes widened. “It…smells like spices! The ones from the market in Nicodranas…” Strong and sweet black tea, laced with spices. She felt tears starting to come to her eyes involuntarily as she took a sip.

“Is it alright?” asked Caduceus, tilting his head a little anxiously. “It’s a new blend, but I tried for some of that tea we tried back then. Just for you, actually. Black tea, with some anise, ginger, cardamom and clove. Extra cinnamon.” He smiled softly at her. “You looked like you needed to taste a bit of home.”

“Oh Caduceus.” Jester smiled, taking another sip of tea through the mist of tears, as she cuddled up beside him, laying her head on his shoulder against the soft wool of his scarf. In that moment she was transported back to that day in the market in Nicodranas, the air warm and fragrant, music playing and pipe smoke mingling with the smell of spices. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”


End file.
